


Openings

by Peanutbutterer



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>K/D tag to 4x18/4x19</p>
            </blockquote>





	Openings

“Seriously? You’re not going to open it?”

Deeks blinks slowly back at her. He looks puzzled for a moment before asking, “The door?”

“No, not the,” Kensi frowns, “well, yes, the door too. Why are you not opening the door?”

She watches as he scrubs his hand over his face. His apartment door’s cracked just far enough that she can see a few inches of him - enough to see that he’s fairly rumpled (not that there’s much difference between sleep-rumpled and awake-rumpled when it comes to Deeks), wearing a white t-shirt and - oh. Boxers. Her heart simultaneously lifts into her throat and drops down into her gut. She has no idea how that’s possible but is absolutely certain that it is.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” She covers her eyes. “You’ve got company. I shouldn’t have.”

“Kens -”

“I’m such an ass. I’ll,” she waves him off with her free hand and turns back down the hall, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Kens!” he repeats as the door squeaks open. “Stop.”

She stops moving but doesn’t uncover her eyes.

“You are such an idiot,” he says on a sigh. “Would you drop your hand?”

“But you’re...” She waves a hand at him instead of finishing the sentence.

“It’s almost midnight. What did you expect?”

Her eyes are still closed but she drops her hand. “Jeans, honestly. But at the very least, pajama pants. I didn’t think you’d have company.”

“You think the fact that I’m in my underwear means I have company?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“You’re the one that sleeps naked, Princess, not me.”

She opens her eyes so she can scowl effectively. He’s grinning. Of course. “Jerk.”

“Sticks and stones -”

“Please don’t say ‘bones.’”

“Since when are you such a prude?”

“I’m not! I...” She can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. _Please don’t blush, please don’t blush_.

“You’re blushing.”

_Damn it_.

He points at her, the thrill of victory written plainly across his face. “You had a dream about me.”

_Damn it, damn it_.

“And I was wearing boxers. That’s why you can barely look at me.”

“No.”

“I admit I’m a little disappointed I was wearing anything at all, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Ugh, shut up.” She gestures to the door. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“That sounds like a proposition.”

“Everything sounds like a proposition to you. I’m getting cold out here.”

“I can tell.”

She drives a fist into his shoulder. Hard.

“Ow, jeez, okay, okay. You don’t have to beat the crap out of me.” 

She brushes past him and drops onto his couch. “Go put some pants on.”

“Nope.” He drops down beside her, still rubbing where she punched him. “I am perfectly comfortable how I am.”

“You’re such an ass.”  
“You want to see my what now?”

Kensi drops her head into her hands. “This was a terrible idea.”

“What was the idea, exactly?” he asks, twisting to face her. “Show up at my door and make your dream reality?”

She turns her head and gives him her best eye roll. “No.”

“Ah,” he smirks triumphantly, “but you don’t deny having the dream.”

“Will you drop it?” She lifts her head, putting her hand on his forearm to forestall the movement she can already see coming. “And by ‘it’ I did not mean your underwear.”

He pouts. “Well, you could have been clearer.”

“I really couldn’t have.”

“Want a beer?”

She tries not to sigh in relief. “Yes, please.”

She watches as he gets up and goes into his kitchen. The momentum that carried her to his door has left her and she’s very seriously regretting the decision to leave her bed. She should have stayed there, wallowing in her own misery and building up her defenses. She should not have blown over here on some ill-advised mission to follow through with what was clearly a failed plan in the first place. 

Deeks returns to the couch and hands her a beer. “What’cha thinkin’ about, partner?”

“The red team,” she lies. “Wondering if we’ll see them again.”

He takes a pull from his bottle. “Probably.”

She raises an eyebrow as he sits down beside her. “You sound fairly certain.”

“If there’s one thing that’s certain in life, it’s that Henrietta Lange will have her way.”

“And she wants us to see the red team again?”

He nods. “She wants Callen to, at least.”

Kensi rolls her eyes. “You too, huh?”

“It’s not like she’s trying to be subtle about it.”

“Well, subtle wouldn’t exactly work with Callen.”

“True. But you’d think Hetty would have more devious methods. At this point I’m just waiting for her to lock them in the burn room and fake a power outage.”

“Oh, god. Don’t give her the idea.”

“Why?” He smiles around the mouth of his beer. “You think she’d use it on us?”

Kensi laughs. It’s one of her ridiculous fake laughs that she knows he can see right through, but it seemed like the necessary response. “Hetty does not want us to be together.”

“Maybe not.” Deeks shrugs. 

They let silence settle between them as they drink their beers. After a while, she starts picking at the label on her bottle, digging her nails into the paper that’s grown soft from condensation. She thinks about speaking several times, but never manages to muster up the courage.

Deeks has drained a good portion of his beer before he breaks the silence. “So, are you going to tell me why you came?”

She thinks about lying, but he’d probably get it out of her eventually. “What if it’s just a present?”

If he’s surprised by her question, he doesn’t show it. “Is it?”

“No.” She brushes shredded scraps of label off her thigh and onto his floor. “It’s really awkward that you’re in your underwear for this.”

Deeks laughs, a genuine laugh that triggers a smile of her own. “You want me to get dressed?”

“I’ll power through.”

He meets her eyes for a moment, and she’s not sure what she sees there. Wariness, hesitation. Maybe a little disappointment. It’s the latter that spurs her onward.  
“You’re really not going to open it? After all that energy you spent trying to get me to tell you what was in it?”

“Kens -”

“Was that line about ‘at least then we’ll know’ just bullshit?”

“No, it wasn’t.” He sets his empty bottle on the table and turns so that he’s sitting sideways on the couch, knees brushing against her thigh. “But that was weeks ago. If it’s taken you this long to decide then,” he shrugs, “then maybe you made your decision a long time ago and you just haven’t realized it.”

“It’s taken us years to get to this point. Why are those few weeks such a big deal?”

“Because I feel like it means I’ve pressured you into something you aren’t ready for. If you needed to hold on to it for so long before you could let it go, then maybe you shouldn’t give it to me at all.”

She almost laughs. “You actually think you could make me do something against my will?”

“Okay,” he tilts his head and nods, “that’s a fair point.”

“I’m not going to do anything I don’t want to, Deeks.”

“I know you’re not.”

She throws up her hands, one of them still clutching her beer. “Then, why -”

He grins.

Kensi’s jaw drops as the pieces click into place. “Oh my god, that was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You’ve got me trying to talk _you_ into this.”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

She drives her fist into his thigh and he lets out a yelp. “Jesus!”

“You made me think that you’d changed your mind!”

“Kens -”

“You had me all tied up in knots thinking you wanted to keep things how they were!”

“Kens -”

“You had me thinking I’d made this huge gesture and you opted to completely ignore it!”

“Really, Kensi -”

“You are such an assho-”

She doesn’t manage to finish her insult because he’s pressed up against her, lips on hers and the only noise she’s capable of making is an embarrassingly loud moan.

His lips don’t leave hers as he brings one hand up her neck and tangles it in her hair, the other hand trailing down her arm, finding the bottle in her hand and removing it.

“I wasn’t done with that,” she says, the words barely intelligible as her lips continue to dance across his.

“I’ll get you another later.”

She hums against his mouth as she drags her hands up his back, clawing at his shirt as they go. He’s pushing her back against the couch, his body pressed firmly against her as she struggles for more contact.

He slips his hand into the waistband of her pants and pulls his mouth from hers. 

She recognizes the light in his eye just as he opens his mouth to speak.

“If you make a box joke,” she warns, bringing her finger up to his lips to silence him.

He nips the tip of her finger and grins. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
